Srinagar, May 06: Each spring, nomadic families from the Pir Panjal region embark on their traditional migration, herding sheep, goats, and horses across the challenging mountain passes to the lush meadows of Kashmir. This year, however, their journey is marked by increased security measures and a pervasive sense of unease.
Mohammad Yousuf, a shepherd from Reasi, described the current migration as more daunting than usual. “This journey has never been easy,” he said, “but this time, fear is palpable. We are not allowed to rest or cook; in many places, we are simply told to keep moving.”
The heightened anxiety stems from the aftermath of the April 22 Pahalgam terror attack, in which 26 people lost their lives when terrorists opened fire on a group of tourists. In response, security has been intensified across trekking routes and forest trails throughout Kashmir, directly affecting the paths traditionally taken by nomadic communities. Entire Jammu and Kashmir is currently on high alert.
The administration has imposed restrictions on trekking in several forest zones, established mobile checkpoints, and increased surveillance of campsites. Temporary halts—once considered safe and sacred—are now off-limits.
Zarina Bano, a mother traveling with her child, expressed her frustration: “We used to sleep beneath the pine trees, boil rice and tea over small fires, and continue the next day. Now, even lighting a fire to cook is not allowed. We feel like strangers in our own land.”
The seasonal movement of these nomadic communities is an integral part of the ecological balance of Jammu and Kashmir. Families who have traversed these paths for generations are now encountering restrictions.
Officials say the measures are temporary and precautionary. “After the April 22 attack in Pahalgam, we cannot take chances,” a security official told Rising Kashmir on the condition of anonymity. “We understand the nomads’ concerns and are working on secure corridors and coordination between districts.”
Despite these assurances, the reality on the ground is challenging. Pregnant women, infants, and elderly members are enduring hardships without adequate rest or nourishment. Livestock are growing weary, with some animals collapsing along the way. “We lost two sheep yesterday,” said Rehmat Ali. “Not because of wolves or sickness—but exhaustion.”
The migration that once symbolised a harmonious relationship between humans and nature has now turned into a struggle of survival and identity. “These mountains have always tested us,” Yousuf says, pausing to look up at the misty ridge ahead. “But they never denied us space to breathe. Now, even the wind feels like it’s watching us.”
Shabnam Kausar, a young mother, who reached Kashmir from Rajouri, says, “My children cried from hunger last night. We were told not to light a fire. I had soaked rice, but what use is it without heat? The soldiers said it’s for our safety.
”Near a forested bend along the route from Rajouri, Fatima Begum, an elderly woman with a scarf tightly wrapped around her face, stops to rest under a tree. “We asked to pitch our tent and cook just one meal,” she says, her voice shaking. “They said ‘no fire, no stop, no stay.’ Even animals are given better treatment sometimes,” she said.
